


If the Shoe Fits

by epkitty



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-02
Updated: 2011-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-16 01:17:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epkitty/pseuds/epkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PIppin's never been kissed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If the Shoe Fits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sherri_nc](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sherri_nc).



Haldir had been too long a servant of the Golden Wood.

For much of his life, he had been a wanderer, a wandering servant of his Lord and Lady, an unofficial ambassador to other realms, learning the languages of other people, discovering the great variances in other cultures, and living a life of as much adventure as he could possibly stand.

But the border to his land had been closed. For what felt like ages now, Haldir had remained within the confines of the place, shadowed nearly always by his brothers, content in their captivity, while he longed to leave that which he had always sought to protect.

And now, with the remnants of the fellowship admitted to the land, with the artifact of evil within the boundary, he was too connected, could so easily feel the taint; he could feel the forest shudder.

Haldir slowly descended from one of the public telain, letting his feet guide him, his thoughts elsewhere, with the eight travelers in their sacred home, who had been welcomed by his Lady. Though he trusted her intentions and even her instinct, he did not think it for the best.

And then there was the part of him that saw Legolas, the prince of the dying Mirkwood, and oh how Haldir longed to take his place, to join the travelers in a worthy quest, represent his home and his people, to explore the world again!

Catching himself in a long-winded sigh, Haldir shook his head, smiling faintly.

“No! Go away; I can do it myself!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Haldir’s feet had just settled on the secure earth when small voices alerted him to the presence of others.

From just beyond a low thicket, one of the Halflings was emerging at a furious stomping pace, away from the stream they’d been told they could bathe in.

A curious race, Haldir was intrigued. Even for all his travels, all his world-wise knowledge, he had only ever heard tall tales of the creatures which were now housed in the cozy places of Lothlorien.

Seeing the young hobbit emerge from the thick grove of shorter trees, Haldir could do naught but inquisitively follow after.

It was the younger of the hobbits, the youngest Haldir would guess, and the shortest as well, with curly dark hair on head and feet. Pippin. That was the name. Pippin was hurrying through the wood, and Haldir had little doubt that the youth was not rushing to anything but rather away from his cousin.

Sure enough, Pippin slowed and finally ceased, looked around, and threw himself down to sit among the pillowing grass at the base of a huge mallorn.

“Troubles, little hobbit?”

Pippin looked up, startled -- though not overly so -- at Haldir’s voice.

“It’s you!” Pippin cried happily, jumping to his feet. Then, with surprising ease and grace, the little halfling curved down into a bow, his curly head nearly sweeping the grass. “Peregrin Took, at your service.”

Haldir marveled at the funny accent, the tiny clothes. Then, he bowed as well. “Haldir, son of Ithir, at yours.”

“Yea; I remember you, of course,” Pippin answered, smiling widely up at him. “It was very mean of you to blindfold us the whole way; I was quite terrified!” But he was still smiling, and he obviously felt no terror in Haldir’s presence.

“Again, I apologize for the necessity,” Haldir told him gravely, a little uncertain how to deal with someone so very different from himself. Against his better judgment, he was beginning to like these little fellows. “And I feel I must apologize even more, for I heard your earlier disquiet, your disagreement with your kin, and I followed you.”

“Well that’s all right,” Pippin answered without a qualm. “I’m very glad you did, in fact! I’d much rather laugh with a companion then cry by myself.”

It was such a simple statement, but Haldir felt the remark resonate profoundly. “Aye. Others of your race must call you wise.”

Pippin literally fell over laughing, clutching his stomach and giggling, chortling, guffawing at the very idea. “No no!” he laughed, “never! I’m more often called a fool than a hobbit!”

“How tragic,” Haldir drolly replied. Then, uncomfortable to be standing and looking so far down at his companion, Haldir gracefully fell into a cross-legged position on the forest floor, his gray cloak pooling behind him.

Recovering from the laughing fit, Pippin sobered and rolled up onto his knees. Even then, they still weren’t eye-to-eye. Pippin stared without shame at Haldir.

“One would think you’d never seen an Elf before.”

Pippin blushed. “Not this close,” he mumbled. Then, “So, why DID you follow me?”

“You seemed upset. I thought maybe you would get lost.”

Chuckling, Pippin shook his curly head. “Oh, no! Hobbits don’t get lost, especially not in a forest,” Pippin assured him. “But I appreciate the concern.”

“You did appear quite distressed, though,” Haldir pointed out, leading.

“Oh, yes, well.” Pippin frowned and sighed. “It’s my cousin, Merry.”

“Yes, I did hear the two of you,” Haldir reminded him.

“That’s right . . . Well. Merry took a gash to the head in the Mines of Moria, and I wanted to help him clean it at the river. It IS getting better, and he probably DIDN’T need help, but I still fuss over him.” Pippin had the decency to look slightly abashed. “But it’s just, I AM the youngest, and everyone’s always trying to take care of me . . . I don’t need that all the time. Maybe, for once, I’d like to take care of someone else, you know?”

“I cannot say I empathize,” Haldir admitted. “I am the eldest child of a small family and have carried the burden of guardianship so long I hardly remember what it’s like for anyone to ‘fuss over’ me. But I am sorry for you, that you feel that way. It must be a difficult position.”

“Aye . . .”

Haldir could see Pippin wanted to say something. “What is it?” Haldir pushed. “You can ask.”

“It’s just . . . how old are you???” he finally blurted out.

Haldir felt the first genuine smile in a long time curve his mouth. His face felt oddly stretched by the rare expression and his heart softened. “I am 5,482. How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

They both laughed.

Then Pippin piped up with, “But we can still be friends, right?”

“Why yes, I suppose so,” Haldir answered, caught off his guard by the question.

“What’s it like to live forever?”

Haldir’s face betrayed his shock. “Ah, . . . difficult to say, I imagine. Would it be any easier to describe living a life knowing that you will one day die?”

Pippin shook his head sadly. “I suppose not.”

“Living forever,” Haldir murmured, “means, I think, looking at the world differently. In my experience, it means we see more than mortals. So concerned they can be with the here and now, with the present, because that is all they know. They may tell stories of their history, and tales of things that might have happened long ago and far away, but Elves live their history. We don’t just tell tales of what came before; we remember it. We saw it; we create our history. Therefore, we see with wider vision, we see what our actions may cause not only for tomorrow, but for a thousand and one tomorrows. Living forever means that death, and therefore all things that die, is unnatural. There is an inner core of our being that simply knows we do not belong here. This home that I have known as long as I remember, will someday cease to be, and I will no longer walk this earth. That, I think, is just as big a burden as knowing you will die. It all comes down to the same thing: the unknown. Living forever means I shall live forever, that is all. We are not, I think, so very dissimilar.”

“Wow,” Pippin whispered. He had listened, intrigued, to Haldir enumerate the profound nature of immortality with the same attention he paid to Boromir’s bawdy songs and Legolas’ ballads.

The hobbit then inched forward on his knees, coming closer and closer to Haldir’s fairly motionless form. “How do I seem to you? Truthfully.”

Thinking the question over, Haldir examined the small face turned up at him. “Young,” Haldir told the hobbit. “Childlike.” Pippin frowned. Haldir went on, “You seem made of different stuff than men or Elves or any other creatures I have known. You can be even quieter than me.”

Pippin smiled at the compliment, but then frowned again. “You really think I’m childlike?”

“Yes. In all the ways that matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have such resilience about you. Emotionally, I mean. And that is something I have long lost. You have such joy. Something else I find lacking in myself. That ability to find joy in the things you do, in food and drink, in friends and family, in the world around you. That is childlike, because adults too often forget how. But maybe your race is different, for I find that same joy in your cousin and young Sam, and even in Master Frodo. Though he shall lose what is left before long, I fear. So you see, I do not mean innocent or ignorant, or silly. I mean only the very best.”

“Then will you kiss me?” Pippin longingly asked.

“Kiss you?” Haldir wondered, his head tilting like a bird’s. “Why should I do that?”

Pippin blushed and drew away. “Never mind. It was silly. Do you remember your childhood?”

“Not much,” Haldir admitted, but wouldn’t let the sudden question disappear. “Why do you want me to kiss you, Pippin?”

Running a hand through his own dark hair, Pippin blew out a heavy breath and looked away. “I’m going to be an adult soon, you see,” he blustered out, running his words together. “And I’ve never had a proper kiss.”

“Oh no? Why is that?”

“I always thought . . . I always heard stories, and heard the girls whispering, and I always thought, your first kiss: it’s supposed to be special.”

“Aye.”

“And it’s supposed to be remembered for ever and for ever.”

“Aye.”

“And it’s supposed to be good and right.”

“Aye.”

“And I always knew, deep in my heart, that there’s supposed to be something magical about it.”

“Magical?” Haldir queried.

“Aye, like in the old stories, when the prince rescues the princess, and awakens her with a kiss. That’s magic! That’s what a first kiss should be.”

Despite his common sense, Haldir was intrigued. “And you think a kiss with me would be magical?” Haldir marveled.

“Of course,” Pippin told him shortly. As though it was obvious. “You’re an Elf,” he elaborated. “You’re magic by your very nature.”

“I suppose you could put it that way,” Haldir slowly agreed, wondering if this young hobbit was actually talking him into something.

“So . . . one thing follows from another . . .” Pippin rolled his hands around one another as if to say, ‘therefore . . .’

“Magic kiss,” Haldir supplied. “Huh.”

“So, will you?”

“Well,” Haldir rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “I don’t know . . .”

Pippin batted big eyes and pouted out his lower lip.

Haldir laughed. “I suppose it wouldn’t be too much of a hardship,” he granted, leaning in.

Pippin, not expecting such an easy victory, drew back, startled.

“Well?” Haldir goaded.

Like a youth’s game of chicken, Pippin knew he couldn’t back out. He skidded forward until they were looking deeply at one another. Elf and hobbit. Ancient and youth. Haldir and Pippin.

Haldir had to close the distance, tipping his head forward and gently brushing his lips over Pippin’s.

Who could have guessed that Pippin was right, and there WAS a bit of magic in it.

“I can’t believe I kissed an Elf,” Pippin whispered when they slowly parted.

“If the shoe fits . . .” Haldir suggested.

“Hobbits don’t wear shoes,” Pippin told him with matter-of-fact truthfulness.

Haldir couldn’t help it. He laughed.

= = = = =

Later, when Pippin was lying beside Merry in the little grove that was their bedding area, Pippin had every intention of telling Merry all about his meeting with Haldir in the woods and the kiss that they had shared.

But then, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that part of that magic was its secrecy. He highly doubted it was something Haldir would tell anyone, and if Pippin didn’t tell anyone either, then it would be a secret shared between just the two of them.

And when Pippin was dead, some tiny part of him would live on in a distant memory of a kiss.

As morbid as that thought could potentially be, Pippin was comforted by it.

And the magical kiss, too, was something that he could keep close to his own heart in the coming months when despair would beckon.

= = = = =

The End.


End file.
